Queen of the Night
by LavernaG
Summary: Based on Piret Jaaks's "Öökuninganna" ("Queen of the Night"). Former prima donna Elli Heidelberg ponders the misfortunes and joys of her life. One-Shot. Pre-Play.


_**I've just seen my forevermore favourite play, "Öökuninganna" ("Queen of the Night") in the theatre, with the brilliant, incomparable Helgi Sallo in the lead role of the former prima donna Elli Heidelberg. This little story gives us a peek into her mind, whilst she ponders about the misfortunes and joys in her life.**_

 _ **If you haven't seen this magnificent play, which I am absolutely certain of, a few details and references will pass you by. However, that doesn't mean you couldn't have a try to understand this brilliant and difficult woman's heart.**_ _ **And just to make things clear: Carl is Elli's second husband, Roman is her first, and the Honeyman is her neighbour, who keeps bees and lambs.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a review if you do! :)**_

* * *

Elli looked down at her husband's peaceful face, the calm features ever so beautiful in the dim light. She knew that in a few minutes her alarm would go off, and she would have to have another drink to assure her another few hours of sleep. Elli didn't mind. Not any more. Her husband was breathing slowly and quietly. Elli couldn't resist bringing a hand up to his face to caress his cheek.

She loved him so terribly much! So awfully much that sometimes when he looked at her the way he always did, with undying admiration and care in his eyes, Elli thought she might weep. She had, too, when Carl had taken her hand ever so carefully a week ago and told her that he wanted to take her to Germany. Even now, as he was lying in his bed so weak and so close to death, he still wanted to take her to Germany, to make her dreams come true. Elli had never really wanted to leave after she'd met Carl. He had given her her life back—not in its former glory, but still a life. One that was heaven compared to the Russian prison camp and to her domestic life in Germany.

Elli sighed and rested her hand on Carl's chest, right above his heart. Carl was such a kind man, always so gentle with her. Not like Roman had been. Oh, she'd loved Roman at first. She'd loved him with all her heart, and she'd adored him for taking her to Germany, where she'd spent the best six years of her life.

Elli's other arm was wrapped around her body to control the frightful shivering. Right under her thumb, she knew, ran a long and ugly scar. She could sometimes still see, when she looked into the mirror, the old image of herself, crying every time she got home, tending to her black eye or cut lip, or applying a thick layer of make-up to her face to conceal the evidence of her first husband's mood swings. That was the time when she'd lived only for the theatre. It had been her true love and her best friend.

Elli had been devastated when Roman had taken her away from it, and even more so afterwards when the Russians had stopped their car. Even if he had intended to save her life, Elli had never forgiven her first husband for disowning her. She knew the relief the closeness of death brought with itself, and she didn't mind it. It was a lot easier to bear than Roman's last openhanded slap and the Russian officers' later. They'd called her a slut throughout the whole ride to Russia, and since they'd believed in the truthfulness of their words, they had not seen any reason not to inflict something other than their cruel words on her.

Elli hadn't told Carl that part, nor had she said anything about what they'd done to her in the prison camp. It was much better if he didn't know. Then maybe Elli could forget one day, too.

The slow and steady beat she could feel under her fingers gave Elli a wonderful feeling of home. She'd so enjoyed being held by Carl before he had been taken ill. They'd been nearly inseparable, except, of course, when Elli had had to go on the little stage that still accepted her. Her days at the opera had been long passed, and she had tried so very hard to find other joys in life.

They had both tried. But destiny, in which Elli had once believed, had had different plans for them. And so the poor Honeyman had had to deliver and bury their little bundles of happiness. All of them. Elli had wondered once whether it had been her fault or Carl's, but finally decided on Roman and the Russians.

She had thought she could at least enjoy a comfy retirement with her kind and ever so loving husband, but even that had been deprived from her. Elli had never seen such an awful case of diabetes, nor any kind of cancer at all. It had hurt so much to see Carl suffer. Elli had sometimes tried to sing to distract her husband from the pain, or to rely on her acting talent and not worry herself over him too much. The latter had quite clearly proved unsuccessful.

Elli listened for a little while longer as Carl's breathing slowed and his heart stopped pounding against her hand. Elli swallowed the cry of agonized despair that insistently crept up her throat, carefully leaned closer and placed a final kiss on his still warm lips. Then she bent down and picked up the small bottle of insulin and the syringe she had dropped when her hands had started to shake with uncontrollable fright. Without daring to look back, Elli stood and walked out of Carl's room, across the gallery and into her own room.

 _The End_


End file.
